


Learning

by foundCarcosa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Experience is the best teacher. [Past Work]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning

_“You… you can’t do it,”_  he’d said. Ludwig remembered saying that very well, wincing a little even as the words were spoken, averting his gaze because he knew how Feliciano would react. One just didn’t tell  _Italia Veneziano_  what he could and couldn’t do. He’d try, and he’d try valiantly.

He started to clear his throat, but the way his mouth was stretched caused him to gag and cough instead. The object against which he pressed the flat of his tongue was familiar, hard and red and held in place by snug black straps… a relic, he’d considered it. He certainly hadn’t hoped to ever use it again. He wasn’t bound anywhere else; his hands clasped opposite wrists at the small of his back, locked by will alone. Feliciano wasn’t clever with knots, and Ludwig was in no hurry to leave his present position.

Kneeling in the centre of the bed, unclothed and flushed, he closed his eyes and waited for the Italian to return.

“I’ll have you know that I don’t want to do this…” Ludwig cracked his eyes open and watched the other male hesitantly approach the bed. Feliciano had remained clothed as requested, but the incongruence of his casual, loose garb was disconcerting. Feli didn’t wear black often, which didn’t usually occur to Ludwig, but for once he wished that the Italian would have.

The mattress creaked slightly as Feliciano climbed onto it, shuffling forward on his knees until he was a hair’s breadth away. With the German back on his haunches and the Italian kneeling the way he was, Ludwig had to roll his eyes upward to meet the other’s gaze.

He could see it; Feliciano really  _didn’t_  want to do this.

He made a sound of encouragement in the back of his throat, arching his back slightly. _Anything, do anything… just don’t look at me like that_ …

Small, trembling hands rose to stroke Ludwig’s tousled hair back from his forehead, and his first thought was,  _Too soft._  Maybe his eyes conveyed that, because the hands tightened, tugging on the locks in which they were tangled. The German gasped, his erection twitching. Gut reaction. He hated having his hair pulled just as much as his body loved it.

Feliciano’s gaze travelled down, pausing to regard the evidence of Ludwig’s appreciation. Eyes glazing, he brought a hand to it, touching lightly with fingertips before curling around and squeezing, just once. Lud’s hips twitched, heat blooming over his cheeks. Instinct told him to unlock his hands and toss the Italian to the bed; his muscles strained with the mental command to stay put. He was panting, he could hear it now.

“I haven’t even really done anything…” Feliciano was murmuring in amazement, mostly to himself, so it seemed. His free hand was taking the opportunity it rarely had — _Ludwig tended to keep his tank top on during sex_ — and was exploring the road map of scars on the German’s torso. Trembling fingers on sensitive tissue, tripping over a nipple to follow a trail around the upper part of his side… and that other hand was still lingering on his arousal, twitching when Ludwig thrust into it insistently.

And then Feliciano’s eyes darted back to Ludwig’s face, and the Italian seemed to lose his momentum. The German groaned low as Feli began talking again, filling the chasm of his discomfort with explanations and apologies.

 _Just touch me,_  Ludwig thought desperately,  _since you rarely get to otherwise. Stop it. You’re thinking too much. Don’t look at the gag in my mouth, look at the need in my eyes. Gottverdammt, Italien, don’t you understand how far you’ve already gotten_ …

Ludwig lowered his head and listed forward until his forehead landed in the hollow of the other male’s shoulder. Feliciano’s floundering speech faltered and then ceased. Resignedly, the German unlocked his hands and undid the clasp at the back of his head; the gag thudded on the mattress and his arms curled around the Italian.

“I-I’m sorry, Ludwig,” and then came the flurry of words again. Ludwig sighed and raised his head, nipping lightly but firmly at Feliciano’s neck to get him to subside.

“You like to touch me, correct?” he murmured, his voice hoarse in the other man’s ear. After a moment, he received a quick nod in answer. “And I don’t let you.  
And the point of this is to do things to me that I wouldn’t usually let you…”

The quick intake of breath let Ludwig know that he was understood. He dropped his arms and sat back on his haunches again, still nude and still vulnerable, even more than before. Every bit lip and clenched hand would be seen, every guttural  _“mein Gott”_  and inarticulate groan heard — no objects could convey a sense of submission as well as unrestrained pleasure could. Already Feliciano was reaching to touch his fevered, scarred skin again, a newfound privilege that was to be his and his alone, and a tool in an erotic arsenal he didn’t even realise he was building.


End file.
